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Silence. There was nothing but silence in her mind now, and such was more maddening than the voice had ever been. With the voice she felt like she was never alone, like there was someone who understood and loved her. Sure her family claimed to love her, but they could never understand how she felt. The only one who understood was Gul’dann, and he was silent.

It was late, but Cha’reth and Meranna sat by the fire companionably. Of all her family members, only her grandmother seemed to understand her unique view about life, but of course Meranna was little more than a walking corpse. She had traded in her chains for leather cuffs a couple of weeks ago, and was now holding the leg of a talbuk as Meranna used a knife to slice strips for jerky. As usual Meranna was talking her head off, and Cha’reth listened with bored disinterest. “…and when the smoke cleared Stormwind belonged to us. We danced and feasted in the streets, and gave the best loot to our new Warchief Orgrim Doomhammer as tribute. I was never so proud to be a Blackrock then at that moment, as I took part in the dawn of a new era.”

“HOOWAH! Lok’tar!!!” They turned in surprise as Luuhk walked into the cave, waving a letter in one hand. “Unkul send hosh news, Ripgut am vanished and Dark Horde am nearly flat,” he explained, a joyful grin on his face.

Cha’reth stared at him blankly, but her heart was a tumult of emotions. Could that be why the voice of Gul’dann had stopped whispering to her? Cha’reth turned to look at Meranna as she set down the knife, and sighed at Luuhk. “You shouldn’t sound so happy about it boy, Lord Ripgut was a powerful warrior. His disappearance is a loss to all Horde, and an end to progress.”

“Loss? Lat nub gruk, him part ov reason sistur head nub on right!” Luuhk insisted. Cha’reth didn’t react to his statement, it was best if he continued to think she was completely insane.

Meranna swooped down on Cha’reth protectively, crooning as she stroked her hair. “Maybe she wouldn’t be this way if you’d stop treating her like she’s lost her mind. She just needs some attention, don’t you my dear?”

Cha’reth voiced a small whimper as she leaned into the embrace, discreetly pulling the knife toward her, and hiding it under her leg. Luuhk was too busy rereading the letter to pay them much mind. “Cha’reth do hosh now, me tink id time uz go back. Unkul blah Ripgut maybe come back summuun, but now me tink Cha’reth get bettur round rest of clan.”

Meranna frowned, and held the girl a little closer. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Those Bloodfury are soft minded fools, just like your mother. I’ve told you before; I won’t let my granddaughter be corrupted.”

Luuhk looked at the Death Knight and snarled. “Am lat crazy too? Dark Horde make sistur like dis, Bloodfury am her true clan! It where her belong, and me takin’ her back in mornin’!”

“Over my still corpse!” Meranna growled, standing up and going to the corner to grab her mace. With a leer she also picked up Luuhk’s axe, and tossed it at him.

Catching it the young man glared at his grandmother, and they began to circle one another inside the cave. They had fought so often that there was no telling who would win on any given day, but this time he was determined to end the conflict once and for all. In the blink of an eye he charged at the Orcess, and their weapons met in midair. They began a violent dance around the fire, the sound of metal clashing and Orcs grunting echoed through the stone chamber.

Luuhk managed to cross his axe with her war-hammer, so they wrestled with their hands on their weapons, their faces inches from one another. Luuhk’s muscles bulged as he prepared to shift his weight and catch her off-guard, but suddenly a sharp pain blinded him and everything went dark.

At first Meranna didn’t know what happened as the warrior slumped to the ground unconscious, but then she saw Cha’reth standing over him with the knife in her hand. She had hit him in the back of the head with the butt of the hilt, and was now staring at Meranna with a blank expression. “I’m leaving.”

Meranna smiled, looking relieved. “Oh my girl, I’ll go with you. I can keep you safe, and we’ll have some good adventures together. Before your brother became such a weak minded fool, we had some fun times in…”

“You’re not coming with me, I am going alone,” Cha’reth insisted emotionlessly. Without a second glance she went to the storage room, and began packing all of her old belongings into a leather bag.

Meranna followed her, but kept a cautious distance. When the girl stood and shouldered the pack, Meranna stepped in front of her. “What am I going to tell your brother? He’ll try to come after you, and if I attempt to stop him I’ll have to kill him.”

Cha’reth elbowed her way past Meranna, but paused at the mouth of the cave thoughtfully. “You’re a corpse, so play dead. When he wakes up he’ll try to revive you, and you can claim I attacked you as well. I will find my own path, away from the Bloodfury.”

Meranna nodded, and lay down across from Luuhk. “If that’s what you really want my dear, but remember that you can always come to me for help. I won’t judge you like they will, you have my word. You and I, we are alike, we’re both enamoured by death.”

“Death… yes, death is the only truth,” Cha’reth said in a soft voice, though she still refused to turn around. For the first time in months she was smiling, and she wasn’t about to share her happiness with anyone, not even her grandmother. “Aka’magosh, we will meet again in the shadows.”

"I was feeling restless," Zhorkosh said, causing Chander to snort a laugh. He was careful not to let his amusement show over the radio, but the others got the joke. She was the second Orc to say as much in just the span of a couple minutes.

"Garogh, have you been to the Ring of Blood in the Highlands yet? If not, we could find some glory there," Sisanej suggested.

Chander smiled, and spoke into the receiver. "I'll join you both if you choose ta go." Little did he know that less than an hour later he would be standing with not just Sisanej and Garogh, but Zhorkosh, Greshara and Warfang as well. The Pit as he preferred to call it had not been enough to ease the Orcs tensions, so they'd moved on to Thundermar in hopes of creating some fun for themselves. The Dwarves however put up little resistance, and soon they were debating where to go again. An idea struck the Warbringer, why not go bother the Humans? The Bloodfury had left the Alliance alone on their ground, ever since the Dark Horde became a threat. However, there were always reports of Horde being ambushed by large parties of Alliance forces. Why should the Horde be the ones getting picked on all the time? "We'll head fer Elwynn Forest, an' hold their Garrison!"

Joined by the Blackguard leader Darethy, the Bloodfury Clan assaulted the Garrison as planned, and held it well for a time, but the Alliance numbers soon began to swell. Before they knew it they were falling back into Westfall, and a call for aid was sent out. While the others prepared to summon reinforcements, Chander waited above the Garrison, staring at a member of the Twilight Empire. He couldn't help remembering the evenings he'd spent with one of their Senators recently, and wondered what they would think of this skirmish. He put it out of his mind; they were Alliance, and his standing orders were to fight Alliance. At last his radio buzzed with excitement, and he knew that help had arrived. He prepared to meet with his comrades to lead the next offensive, but that member of the Empire had chosen to stick to him like glue. Wherever he flew, he was followed. "Alright, let's see if ya know this one..." he started off in one direction, and when he was sure the Human was following he signaled his wyvern to fly upside-down in a smooth vertical flip, and glided over the head of the confused Alliance. Glancing over his shoulder he saw them fly away, and laughed.

When he landed his heart swelled at the numbers who waited for him. For HIS command. He made a short, but impassioned speech to lift their spirits before combat, and secured himself on Maulwing's back. "Ta Goldshire! FER BLOODFURY, FER THE HORDE!!!" When they arrived they were able to clear out the weaker Alliance that had not left to chase them, and by the time reinforcements arrived they were inside the Inn. "Stay inside, draw them in!" He felt like he'd been shouting orders for days, his throat was getting raw. At first they held their own, but then the Alliance pushed back with brutal determination. They were drawn outside, and beaten down. By the time Chander's head cleared enough from the whooping he'd received, he knew it was enough. They weren't savages intending to rape and plunder, they were Orcs seeking amusement, and they'd found it alright. "Retreat! We showed um we're ta be feared an' respected, now fall back! Victory is still ours this night, we held against um in their lands, Lok'tar!!!"

The fighting blurred into rhythmic motion - smooth, mindless and never ending. Baboo fought tooth and claw, assisting Hulkababy in the never ending slaughter of Hellscream's Kor'krons and other assorted minions. Goblin engineers in the oil fields, Orc butchers on the plains. Dark warlocks and earth elementals...

Healing Baboo with a mental thought, Hulk paused long enough to take in the situation. Today, he was in the oil patch - having already gathered close to one hundred barrels of the black substance for Vol'jin's forces in Duratar. He'd stacked them, one by on, alongside the road for the caravans to pick up. Once loaded, he provided escort to the local supply stations.

Drinking from a water skin, he sat under a large tree, resting from the hours of slaughter. Baboo was curled up beside him, catching some sleep before their next assault.

"...I need not remind Bloodfury orcs that Warchief Garrosh Hellscream was duly appointed by Warchief Thrall. Not all were or are pleased with that appointment. Their pleasure or the lack of it however is meaningless. Warchief Garrosh Hellscream, son of Grom Hellscream, is supreme Warchief of the Horde by the will of Thrall.

Chieftain Cairne Bloodhoof disputed that fact, and had the honor and determination to do so boldly and publicly. The Tauren are an honorable people, blessed with honorable leaders.

Not all are so blessed..."

The warchief's words echoed through his mind as he drank. The last missive he'd seen. The last time he'd visited the Clan's lodge. The last time he'd worn the Red Tabard. Looking at his chest, he smiled at the Mag'har tabard he wore. Splattered with blood, it reminded him of his days in Nagrand when he'd earned their trust, respect and reverence.

"I won't wear the Red," he'd told Chander the last time he saw the warbringer. "But I won't stand aside while I watch Hellscream send our people back into the fel abyss. I side with Thrall."

The memory faded, leaving him with a heavy sigh. His Clan, the one he'd sworn to protect, no longer supported his views. He was called Kor'kron, though the title now meant little where he was concerned. They did not seek him. nor he them.

"Not all are so blessed..." he whispered, knowing who that had been directed at. Patting Baboo on his grizzled head, he smiled - noticing another group of engineers making their way into the field. "Some are more blessed, old friend," he said, earning a growl of approval in return. That we are, Baboo replied inside his mind. The place he talked to his companions.

Hoisting his crossbow, the pair slipped out of the tree's shadow and waded back into the maelstrom.

One chance, she had been told. One chance to 'repair' the 'asset', or it would be 'ended'.

So be it. No one had been able to nail down how long that one chance might last though. And she was in charge of the healing. And she had thought of how the 'asset' might be of further use if the results were less than perfect or took longer than instant.

The odds were looking better, for soul as well as body, and not merely those of the 'asset'.

Greshara opened here eyes and she was back. She could smell the flesh burning. HER flesh. Her face was pressed against a rough dirt floor that- in contrast to the flames she could still feel burning to her soul- was quite cool. Her body was sprawled out, riddled in fresh burns still spewing forth smoke and green embers of hell-fire."No.. Not again.."Fear swept over Greshara. A feeling she rarely if ever feels these days. She looked around the room as her eyes focused and her fears were made real. The familiar kodo hide bed, the make-shift weapons rack, the maps sprawled on the floor.. She was back home in her fathers tent. And she knew all to well what happened next. Her hands curled around the gun next to her as she struggled to push herself off the ground. Then, with speed belaying her weakened state she drew at the dark figure standing at the mouth of the tent. Her rifle barely made it off the ground before it was kicked from her grasp and a strong hand gripped her throat tightly. The female orc that now held Greshara's throat laughed as smugly as Greshara ever remembered, before a ball of green flame began to form in her free hand. Greshara tries with all her might to scream out, but no sound is made. The Woman raises her magical fire to Greshara and...She awakens to some poor orc beneath her on the floor of the Wyvern's Tail tavern finding her dagger at his throat, his hair in her hand. Quickly she looks to her exposed skin -absent armor- half expecting the burns from her nightmare to still be bubbling and steaming as though they had just been inflicted. Instead she found her skin fair and healed, covered in the tribal tattoos of a warrior. Realizing it was only a dream Greshara loosened her grip on this stranger. Her eyes locked to his as sweat dripped from her brow."If you value your life, NEVER wake me again! Am I understood?"The orcs eyes flickered with fear. He nodded several times very quickly. Greshara relaxed a little and sheathed her blade while letting the orc get to his feet.'Damn it! Again the same dream. Will I ever escape her?' she thought to herself when she realized the orc that nearly lost his head was still waiting for her, obviously afraid to speak. "What is it whelp? What is worth nearly having a new hole to speak from that I must hear? SPEAK!"The small orc, clad in the simple vestments of a courier, jumped a little at her words-much to Greshara's amusement. "I have been sent with this missive for your eyes only, Stoneslayer-" He straightened his posture and continued, "-It is from.. Well you'll see... I have been told to wait should you grace me with a response." Sweat dripped down his cheek as he spoke.'Pathetic creature.' She thought to herself as she ripped the scroll from the messengers hand. She unrolled the parcel and her eyes widened as they darted across the parchment."Lady Stoneslayer..." The messenger started, causing yet another death glare from Greshara to fleet his way."I have no words for him! Now get out of my sight before I correct my mistake of letting you keep that empty head of yours! NOW!"The orc fled from the inn stumbling over the tables and empty bottles on the floor as he ran, leaving Greshara to her thoughts.'Damn it.. What will I do now..'

"In the green corner, known for her sunny demeanor-" Greshara's face twisted into a scowl at the auditor as he spoke, "-representing the honored Bloodfury Clan, Greshara Stoneslayer! Lets hear it for Greshara!" Greshara didn't move at all but the spectators in the stands of the arena cheered all the same. They were thirsty for blood and Greshara planned on sating that thirst with all the blood her opponent could offer, whoever her opponent may be.

"In the red corner, a savage with no equal! A monster right from your nightmares! Grim'rek the Iron-tamer!" Greshara looked on as the gate opposite her side of the arena creaked open and a massive Orc wielding a blade bigger, perhaps, than Greshara herself strutted out thrusting his axe in the air and drinking in the roar of the crowd. As he came closer to her, Greshara could see this orcs body was covered in scars earned, no doubt, from years of gladiatorial fights. Fights he would certainly have won to still be standing before her alive and well.

"Never an easy one.." Greshara whispered to herself as she drew her rifle from her back and shifted her body into a fighting posture.

"The rules are simple! Fight and win and you keep your lives so they may yet have worth. We'll even give you a decent bit of coin as a prize! Die, and well.. You have no need for anything more, do you? There is no in-between! Two of the Hordes finest! Only one will leave with the gold.. and their life!" Greshara spat in the dirt listening to the auditor blubber on. She cared nothing for gold. She was here for blood and glory. To prove she was strong to the crowd, to her father... To herself. And should she fall, she would give the crowd a glorious show doing so!

Grim'rek laughed as he looked Greshara up and down. His stance was confident.. Casual even. "Orgrimmar! Send me a real warrior! This one is the size of a child, I would fight someone the size of a man!" Grim'rek yelled to the crowd, disregarding Greshara as he did so. He laughed more and lifted his axe to rest on his shoulder, "Are you prepared to die, woman?"

"I'm always prepared to die.-" Greshara's eyes narrowed, though through her wolf-head helm, its doubtful any could tell, "But this day will see you on your back and your blood being drunken in by the earth, you boastful whelp!" Her words were strong and she could tell they angered this large oaf she was about to fight to the death. Good.

Greshara barely had time to move away as Grim'rek charged. His axe came down hard into the earth where she stood not a second earlier. Greshara raised her gun and fired two shots at the brute. One hit his shoulder sending forth a shower of blood, the other sparked as it grazed the blade of his axe. He rushed her again, swinging his blade in a wide arch attempting to sever her torso in two. Greshara rolled beneath his swing and turned to again fire shots his way. Instead, before she could raise her rifle, the back of Grim'reks hand met the bottom of Greshara's chin and she was sent flying backward.

Her mind flashed back to the night she lost her father... "You are too weak to carry the name 'Stoneslayer'.." His last words to her before his death at the hands of that bitch..

Greshara managed to land on one knee and raise her rifle in time to block a strong downward swing from Grim'rek's axe. She shook under his far greater strength. "Whats wrong, woman?-" Grim'rek said tauntingly, "No big words now? You are pitiful! You are WEAK!"

"... Too weak to carry the name 'Stoneslayer'.." Her father had said. The warlock, too, had told her she was weak before ending his life and nearly ending Greshara's. She was young then and helpless. She WAS weak. But no more! She would prove them wrong. She would prove to her father before her death that she was worthy of his love! Her spirit would greet his and he would look on her with pride...

Greshara roared with primal rage as she slid her rifle down the haft of Grim'rek's axe and plunged her bayonette deep into his thigh. Grim'rek howled out in pain, dropping his weapon, and grabbed the barrel of Greshara's rifle. He began to fight against her, trying with all his might to pull it out. Greshara smiled a bloodthirsty smile, "How weak am I now, Warrior? Look me in the eyes and tell the one who will end your life they are weak!" As Greshara finished speaking the words she pulled the trigger and with a loud bang, Grim'rek's leg was left mangled and hanging by a tuft of skin and meat.

Grim'rek fell forward into the dirt frantically grabbing at everything and at nothing. He was screaming like a child new into this world. Begging. "You bitch! You win! I admit defeat!" He yelled his voice a few notes higher than it had been. "Show mercy!"

"Mercy?-" Greshara said mockingly as she pushed the orc to his back with her foot, "Mercy is for the weak! And I, Greshara Stoneslayer, am NOT WEAK!" She raised her rifle over-head with both hands and -roaring- brought her bayonette swiftly down through the orcs heart. His body, now limp and lifeless, began to drown in a pool of black blood. The crowd's cheers rose to the heavens themselves.

And this marks the end of the old material, and the beginning of the new. This thread is meant primarily for active Bloodfury members, but posts about Bloodfury or its members by others may be posted here too. Please ask first, and apply the usual rules of clearing it with others if their characters are used. Given some past events, if you are not presently a Bloodfury Clan member, please PM me with your proposed post first. Again, the usual RP courtesies apply.

Sisanej rolls out of a cot in her garrison’s inn. When her feet hit the floor she makes her way to the pile of bright red armor, which she neatly stacked on the floor the night before. She gets dressed slowly while looking at her reflection in a nearby mirror. Finally, she hoists a heavy axe over her shoulder into clamps which secure it to her back. Still looking at the mirror, now in full armament she walks towards it. Sisa keeps her eyes affixed on herself until she is inches from the mirror...

With a loud roar she slams her gauntlet into the mirror sending glass shards in all directions. Genuinely amused by the destruction, she chuckles as glass pieces rain down to the floor. She grinds the glass under a boot heel and then walks out of the inn.

Sisanej arrives at her garrison’s blacksmith and begins ripping off her armor. She tugs at her heavy shoulder armor until the leather straps give. Leaning forward, she tugs on her helmet and tosses it at an unsuspecting peon’s head as he walks by the blacksmith.

“This is the last day I adorn myself like a tool!”

She hastily dumps out a large sack of blackrock iron and begins throwing pieces into the forge.

“I have fought for the Horde, Warlord Ripgut, and the Bloodfury Clan, but not once in all my years of service have I fought for myself!”

Sparks fly over her head as she begins pounding the softened ore with her hammer.

“Today, this will change. Everything will.”

Hours seem as minutes to her as she crafts her new armor. She works through the day without ceasing.

Sisa puts on her new armor and quickly gets a feel for it. She lets out a sharp howl of approval of her new look.